


carved into my heart

by softambrollins



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, Crack, Fix-It, Fluff, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Up, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 14:57:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17408993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softambrollins/pseuds/softambrollins
Summary: Dean drunkenly knocks on Seth's door in the middle of the night and Seth gets out of bed wearing Dean's shirt.





	carved into my heart

**Author's Note:**

> Basically what it says in the tweet.

Someone's pounding on his door and yelling incoherently and he thinks he's just dreaming, drifting in and out of consciousness, until he startles awake and realises it's still happening. And getting louder. It has to be someone who just blindly stumbled back to the hotel and ended up at the wrong room and when their key didn't work, they started taking out their drunken frustration on his door. And his sleep schedule. Somehow, it seems like the kind of thing that would absolutely happen to him right now, considering the way his life has been going lately.

In hindsight, though, maybe he should've expected this. Because when he opens the door, it's not just some stranger he's about to tell to go the fuck away. It's his very own personal hell in the form of one Dean Ambrose.

Dean actually grins when he sees him, and then while Seth slowly adjusts to his shock, unable to say or do anything, he shoves his way past him and inside.

Seth turns around to look at him, still flabbergasted, until his brain and mouth start to work again. 

"What the _fuck_ — Dean, what the hell are you doing here?" he demands furiously.

Only Dean's apparently in the middle of a long drunken spiel reminiscing about the good old days. He probably doesn't even know what year it is at this point. "— and then I was out just wandering around and I remembered that time we got like super fucking wasted, man, and I fell in a fucking fountain and when you tried to get me out, you fell in too, or maybe I pulled you in, I don't know, it's all super fuzzy, and then we both couldn't get out and Roman found us right there like three hours later —"

"Dean, _please_ , you need to leave right now," he says, almost helpless now, grabbing him by his upper arm and trying to steer him back towards the door.

But Dean just wriggles out of his grasp and flops down on his bed instead, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, arms folded behind his head. 

Seth has to take a second to close his eyes and take a breath and calm himself down, only because he doesn't actually want to end up in jail tonight for murdering his former best friend.

"I swear to god, if you don't get out I'm gonna —" he bites out.

"Yeah, what ya gonna do, huh?" Dean teases, raising a daring eyebrow.

"I'm gonna fucking — call the fucking cops —" he sputters.

Dean rolls his eyes, looking way too pleased with himself. "Oh, please, like you would ever —"

And then Dean just stops mid-sentence and his smug expression just slips away as he squints at Seth's chest. It feels like he's sizing him up, and Seth feels self-conscious all of a sudden. Until he realises what he's _actually_ looking at — the letters emblazoned across his shirt, initials actually, _Dean's_ initials — and oh, that's probably worse. He totally forgot he was even wearing it. God, this _really_ can't be happening right now. Maybe going to jail for murder would actually be better.

Dean sits up and shifts over to the edge of the bed, gaze moving from his shirt up to his face.

"What are you — Is that —" He narrows his eyes at him. "Why are you wearing my shirt?" he asks, sounding genuinely bewildered and almost dazed by it.

He knows if he wanted to, he could just pass it off as nothing. He has a lot of black shirts, he just grabbed the wrong one. Doesn't explain why he still has it though, why he's kept it since the night after Summerslam, and why it looks like it's been worn a lot since — but it's not like he owes Dean an explanation anyway. He doesn't owe Dean _anything_ right now. But he's just — tired. Not just physically. His bones are tired. His _heart_ is tired. And Dean's probably not gonna remember any of this in the morning anyway judging from the state he's in.

"Why do you _think_?" he asks, turning it back around on him, almost accusatory. He can't stop his voice from cracking down the middle though. His heart's beating so fast. "You _know_ why."

Dean's the one who looks truly taken aback now. He slowly gets back to his feet and approaches him.

"Why didn't you say something?" he asks quietly, sounding almost sober now. 

Seth crosses his arms over his chest now, takes a step back, looking at Dean warily.

"When was I supposed to say something?" he mutters bitterly. "When you were beating the shit out of me?" 

Dean actually winces at that, looking genuinely guilty. "You could've said something _before_ —"

Seth shakes his head. "I just wanted everything to stay exactly how it was. I didn't want to fuck it up," he says dryly. How fucking stupid and naive he was, really. To think that something as insignificant as his feelings for Dean would be the thing that would break them apart.

"You should have _told_ me," Dean says, firmer. 

"Would it have changed anything?" Seth says, looking him right in the eyes, knowing his own are filling with tears now. "Or would it have just made it worse?" 

Dean just looks uncomfortable for a moment or two. He lets out a breath. "I don't know," he says truthfully. 

"Well then it doesn't matter," Seth says, dismissive. "None of it matters. How I feel doesn't matter. Why you did what you did doesn't matter. Because it's _over_. So we don't owe each other anything."

Seth turns away from him, stubbornly staring at a wall. He expects Dean to finally just get out and leave him alone in the wreckage. Again. 

But he just feels Dean get closer to him instead.

"I thought you were gonna leave," he murmurs, sounding truly raw and exposed for the first time. "I _knew_ you were gonna leave. Why would you wanna _stay_? Roman was gone and I was fucked up, I've been fucked up since I came back —" 

Seth finally looks back at him.

"How could you not know?" he asks incredulously. "I'd _never_ leave you again. I almost lost you — twice. I couldn't even bear to think about that happening again. And then it _did_. And I couldn't do a damn thing about it."

"I knew I was just gonna drag you down with me," Dean says, looking frustrated with himself. "You didn't deserve that." 

"You didn't give me a _choice_ , Dean," Seth tells him mournfully. "You just made it for me. And that's not fair."

"Life's not fair, Seth," Dean says bluntly. "We know that better than anyone."

Seth just nods absently through his tears. "Yeah, maybe that's true," he agrees. "But just know that if I could, I'd choose you every single time. I _still_ would." He recognises that as the truth as he says it. 

"That would be a mistake," Dean tells him evenly. 

"Maybe. But I'd do it anyway," he says looking up at him, eyes soft and vulnerable.

Dean moves even closer, so that Seth can make out the different shades of blue in his eyes. He reaches out and curls his fingers around the hem of his t-shirt to pull him in. "Seth," he breathes, right against his cheek. 

"Dean," Seth responds, not resisting, letting himself be drawn in, his eyes slowly tracing over Dean's face.

It's more heat and breath than contact at first but then Seth puts both hands on Dean's face and lines them up so that he can finally, finally kiss him for real, his lips catching over Dean's, soft and slow and deliberate. It's so tender it almost hurts. Dean kisses him back for a few moments until it feels like it's almost too overwhelming for him too, and he has to pull away with a small gasp, but just a little, staying close to him.

He rests his forehead against Seth's, his eyes still closed, just taking deep breaths. "You're only gonna get hurt," he says against his lips, but it's not a warning, it's just sad and regretful.

"It's worth the risk," Seth tells him, more sure about that than anything. 

Seth tilts his face up to kiss him again, but it's chaste and brief this time. Then he just looks at him for a long moment, almost making sure they're on the same page, before Dean just nods at him in acknowledgement.

He eagerly reaches up and tugs Dean's jacket off his shoulders, lets it fall to the floor, then walks him back towards the bed, gently pressing him back down on to it. 

He slowly crawls on top of him until he's straddling his thighs, Dean's hands coming up to rest on his hips.

Seth looks down at him, leaning down to kiss him one more time, before raising up to try to pull his own shirt off. 

But then Dean reaches out and grabs his arm to stop him.

"No, leave it on," he says breathlessly, his eyes lighting up with something Seth can't quite decipher. So he obliges.

Then Dean pulls him down to meet his mouth with his own, more desperate and heated than before, his warm hands sliding up under Seth's shirt to run over his bare skin.

"I love you, Dean. I love you," he tells him between kisses, because he has to, just in case, just in case it's all a dream and this moment slips away from him again and he doesn't get another chance.

*

"You're such a fucking dork," Dean tells him after, from where his head's lying on Seth's chest. He sounds ridiculously fond though. "Also _really_ embarrassing."

Seth's too content to even argue right now. "Nah, if you'd caught me wearing my [_official_ Dean Ambrose underwear](https://shop.wwe.com/dean-ambrose-contenders-boxer-briefs/W13455.html) — now _that_ would've been embarrassing." 

Dean actually lifts his head up to look at him, eyes wide with surprise. "Are you fucking with me?" 

"Nope," Seth says, with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"You're serious right now? What the fuck, man?" He whistles, impressed. 

Seth just laughs against the top of Dean's head.

"Is there any way we could, uh, you know, maybe make that happen —" Dean tries now, feigning casualness. 

Seth shakes his head.

Dean just pouts up at him until he relents.

"Okay, fine, maybe I'll show them to you sometime. If you're good," he says, like he's talking to a five-year-old.

"I'm always good, baby," Dean says, mock-offended.

Seth nods indulgently. "Uh-huh, sure you are."

"For you?" Dean says, serious now. "Fuck yeah, I'm gonna be _so_ good."

It feels almost like a promise, in some weird Dean Ambrose kind of way. Seth will take it.

Dean just presses his cheek against Seth's skin and then drops a soft kiss right over his heart. Seth sighs happily and lets his eyes fall shut, holding Dean even closer to him.


End file.
